


The best remedies

by huxley



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, Community: inception_kink, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:24:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huxley/pseuds/huxley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hot bath is good when you're ill, but it's even better when there are added perks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The best remedies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/19632.html?thread=46693808#t46693808) at inception_kink

Arthur put his chin in his palm and squinted at his laptop screen. He had read the same sentence three times without any of it going in and his foot started its customary tap of annoyance against the leg of the table.

"Would you please stop sniffling, Eames?" he asked. "Or at least go and lie down in the bedroom if you're going to keep it up?"

Eames, reclined on the couch with an arm thrown over his eyes, gave a cough that sounded painful even to Arthur's pointedly unsympathetic ears.

"I'm sick," Eames said.

"Yes, but with a cold. You're not dying."

"Would you drag yourself away from that screen even if I was?"

"Of course," said Arthur. "I wouldn't let you die in our living room. It would decrease the selling price of the apartment." He leaned back in his chair and reached out a hand. "Throw me those files, would you?" he asked, nodding at the stack on the coffee table next to Eames' elbow.

Eames grunted.

"Why aren't you in a sexy little nurse’s uniform feeding me grapes?"

"Because I'm working. And I would never debase the nursing profession by turning it into some fantasy of yours. Also, you don't like grapes."

Eames shoved himself up onto an elbow and tossed the files across the table.

"I might like them if you fed them to me."

Arthur snatched up the files and leafed through the papers.

"All you need is rest, fluids and to keep yourself warm," he said, not for the first time that evening. "And by fluids, I don't mean _that_.” He nodded at the half empty bottle of beer on the coffee table.

Eames ignored him and there was a sharp crack as he rolled his shoulders.

"My shoulders are bloody aching," he groaned.

Arthur clicked _save_ on his document and swivelled around in his chair.

"You really are the worst case of man flu I've ever met," he said.

Arthur never got sick. "Prevention is always better than cure" was what his mother had drummed into him from an early age and he had avoided the usual bouts of colds and flu for the best part of the last ten years. Eames' reluctance to help himself in any useful way had been grating on Arthur’s nerves since his first complaints the day before.

Eames didn't reply and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, scrunching up his face. Arthur had to admit that he _did_ look unwell. He sighed and got up, telling himself it was his desire to finish his work and not any softening in his reaction to Eames' pitiful state that made him do so.

"Go and drink a full glass of orange juice and I'll run you a bath" he said. "It might help with the congestion and ease any muscle pain."

Eames nodded and heaved himself to his feet. He pressed a hot, dry kiss to Arthur's neck.

"Thanks, darling," he said.

Arthur left him to stagger into the kitchen and went to run the bath. He poked about in the bathroom cabinet for something to pour into the water and it was with some reluctance that he added a generous amount of his favourite bath oil. He rolled up his sleeves and swirled a hand through the water, the oil tinting it amber and filling the room with the rich scent of almond oil. He straightened up when Eames appeared, already tugging at his belt.

Arthur left him to find some towels and returned to find Eames climbing into the bath. He also found that he had drawn the outline of a cock into the steamed mirror.

Arthur rolled his eyes and dumped the towels onto the floor before getting to his knees next to the bath.

Eames eased himself gingerly into the water, humming in contentment as he sat down and stretched out. The water lapped against the sides of the bath as Eames leant his head back against the wall, elbows on the edges of the tub, too broad at the shoulders to fit completely inside. He shut his eyes and Arthur watched his face relax and the tension slide from his shoulders.

"Wonderful," Eames murmured.

"It had better be, that's about fifteen dollars worth of bath oil you're lying in," Arthur said with a smile.

Eames seemed too relaxed to talk so Arthur rested his forearm on the edge of the bath to cushion his head, trailing his hand through the water, breathing in the steam.

He let his gaze slide up Eames' body, from the surface of the water around his rib cage to his chest as it rose and fell with each deep inhale. His breathing appeared more even already, with only the faintest rattle. He watched the steam swirl around Eames' head, his full lips parted as he breathed it in, the moisture in the air leaving went tendrils of hair at his nape and a flush on his cheeks.

Arthur wet his lips. He watched a bead of sweat as it appeared from Eames’ hairline, slid over his neck and disappeared over the skin of his tattoo.

"Arthur?" Eames asked. His voice was a low, sly rumble and though his eyes were still closed Arthur just _knew_ that he could sense Arthur's pulse quickening, could feel his eyes drinking him in.

"Mmm?" Arthur slid his fingertips up the hard muscle of Eames' thigh beneath the water and flattened his palm over his abdomen. Eames cracked open an eye and smiled down at him through the steam.

"Another one of your home remedies?" Eames asked.

Arthur cupped the hot water in his hand and poured it over Eames' chest. He rubbed the oil slowly into his skin, making his chest hair curl and glisten.

"This one is still undergoing tests," said Arthur, raising his eyebrows. Eames stretched and spread his legs in invitation and Arthur lifted his head. The water was thick and translucent with oil as Arthur slid his hand into it, searching between Eames' legs. He slid down the crease of his thigh, avoiding the weight of his cock where it lay against his hipbone. Eames wrinkled his forehead and tilted his hips, the water sloshing up over Arthur's shirt sleeve.

Arthur teased him, watching Eames' muscles shift as he pressed into Arthur's hand, his fingers brushing through Eames' pubic hair and stroking over the weight of his balls. Eames allowed it for a few moments before wrapping strong fingers around Arthur's wrist and tugging his hand up to cover Eames' cock. Arthur curled his fingers around the hardening flesh and slid his fist up the length of him, tightening his grip around the head. Eames' head fell back with a heavy _thud_ , his groan echoing back off the tiled walls.

"Good?" Arthur smirked, arousal flaring between his own thighs at the thought of the wet heat of the water and the slick grip of an oiled hand. Eames made a rough sound in agreement and arched his neck. He grabbed the edge of the bath, the tub squeaking as he found his grip.

Arthur set a slow pace, squeezing Eames around the base of his cock and rubbing up to the neck and down again, each stroke smooth and torturous. Arthur watched as Eames' cock grew until the swollen head appeared above the surface of the water, shining with oil between his fingers. Arthur worked his wrist until Eames' hips began to pulse with every twist of his fingers, his groans fogging the tiles next to his face.

The hot steam burned down Arthur's throat as he panted, leaving his mouth dry and sweat beading across his forehead. The wet smack of his hand around Eames' cock sent shocks of heat to his groin and he bit his lip, his whimper lost in the slap of the water.

Eames' head left the wall and he stared down at Arthur's hand between his legs, eyes bright and wide for the first time in days.

"I'm gonna come," he breathed, pulling up his knees and bracing himself, hands tight on the sides of the bath. Arthur quickened his pace, rubbing at the vein beneath his fingers. He reared up on his knees, planted a hand on the wall over Eames' head and leaned over him, his fist flying on Eames’ cock.

"That's it, come on," he urged, his nails digging into the grout between the tiles. Eames tilted his face up and Arthur brushed their lips together in a brief kiss. He rubbed his thumb over Eames' slit and Eames groaned, pressing his face to Arthur's neck. He jerked in the water as he came, sending it splashing over the side and Arthur kept up his pace, rubbing around the neck of Eames’ cock as his come hit his stomach. He mumbled against Eames' temple as Eames shuddered up against his chest, his thighs gripping Arthur’s forearm.

Arthur eased off when Eames slid back down into the water, his grip slackening on the sides of the bath. Arthur sat back on his heels and watched him catch his breath, washing the come from Eames' stomach.

"Much better than being force fed grapes, yes?" Arthur asked.

Eames laughed over a cough and nodded.

"Though I still say the nurse's uniform couldn’t hurt," he said.

Arthur smiled and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands.

"Ha," Eames said, lifting a heavy arm and pressing the tip of his finger to Arthur's cheek. "Dimple."

Arthur knocked his hand away and stood up, coming face to face with Eames' artistic representation of a cock in their bathroom mirror. He tutted and wiped the towel over it.

"You okay here while I go and finish my work?" he asked.

Eames hummed and reached out towards him. Arthur went to him and Eames tugged him down, coaxing him into a deep kiss. Arthur closed his eyes and let Eames' tongue open his lips, let him stroke into his mouth and graze teeth along his bottom lip.

"You've been very good to me darling," Eames muttered against his mouth. "I'll be sure to do the same for you."

"I don't get sick," Arthur said, getting to his feet. He didn't miss Eames' snort as he left him in the bathroom and headed back to his laptop. He was almost at his desk before he paused and changed direction for the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and gulped it down, just in case.

*

Eames reached out blindly and smacked at his mobile phone until the alarm stopped blaring. Sunlight fell across his face and he rolled onto his stomach with a grunt before opening his eyes. Arthur was face down in the pillow with his hair a mess around his head, which was something a surprise to him seeing as he was normally up and about while Eames was still dead to the world. He shuffled closer and threw an arm around Arthur's waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

"Morning," he murmured. "You want the bathroom first? I've got to be leaving soon."

Arthur's head moved a fraction.

"No, go ahead," he croaked.

"You alright, love?" Eames asked, brushing the hair back from Arthur's forehead. "You're a bit clammy."

Arthur's answer was a muffled groan into his pillow.

"What was that?"

"I think I'm sick."

Eames didn't say anything for a moment, his hand stroking absently at Arthur's hair.

"But you don't get sick," he said finally, trying and failing to force the smile from his face.

"Shut up."

"What could have possibly happened? Did you miscalculate your dose of Vitamin C yesterday?"

"I said shut up. And stop smirking."

"How do you know I'm smirking?"

"I always know. And you could be a bit more considerate, seeing as you're the one who infected me."

Eames bit his lip and pushed gently at Arthur's shoulder.

"C'mon, let me see you," he said, propping himself up on an elbow. Arthur was no paler than usual but there were dark smudges of shadows beneath his eyes. He squinted in the sunlight for a moment before giving up and shutting his eyes again.

"Didn’t you sleep at all?" Eames asked, laying the back of his hand across Arthur's cheek. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Knew you had to head in early today, didn't want to keep you up," said Arthur. His chest rose over a large inhale and he shoved at Eames' arm. "Go on, I'll be fine. Probably just dehydrated."

"I promised I'd look after you the next time you got sick," Eames said. "Why did you have to go and choose today, hmm?"

Arthur smiled, though it looked as though the effort pained him and it turned into a grimace.

"I'll plan better next time", he said, rolling onto his side. Eames pulled the covers up around his shoulders and kissed his temple.

"Stay wrapped up here for me and I'll be at your beck and call when I get home," he said.

Arthur snorted.

"Yes, eight hours of lying here immobile. That's likely."

Eames ruffled his hair and pushed himself to his feet.

"Anything I can get you?" he asked.

He left the apartment half an hour later, Arthur still cocooned in blankets with a glass of water at his beside and Eames' promise that he would check in throughout the day.

*

Arthur didn't seem to much appreciate the texts Eames sent him. Partly because they contained more emoticons and endearments than Eames knew Arthur deemed necessary, but also because holding the phone up long enough to reply was apparently "too much effort" and left him drained. Eames decided not to be offended and managed to sneak off work half an hour early to get home to him.

All was quiet when he entered the apartment and he headed for the bedroom, finding it dark and empty.

"Arthur?" he called, shrugging off his coat. He wondered for a moment if Arthur had pulled on a pair of running shoes and gone out to be as physically active as possible, just to show Eames how illness needn't leave a man in a pathetic heap beneath a pile of blankets.

It was then that he noticed the light coming from beneath the bathroom door. He pushed it open and his face was engulfed in a cloud of steam.

Arthur was in the bath and only his head was visible above a mountain of pink, twinkling bubbles piled so high that they spilled from the bath to slip down the sides. He had lit a candle and set it on the windowsill, the soft glow flickering up the tiled walls and making Eames think he'd walked into a television advert for women's bath salts.

Arthur's head lolled to the side and he looked up at Eames, his eyelids heavy. Eames raised an eyebrow at him.

"The light made my headache worse," said Arthur defiantly, daring Eames to crack a joke.

"And the bubbles?" Eames asked, sinking to his knees next to the bath.

"Just thought I'd use up the bottle."

"All in one go?"

"Shut up."

"Aren't you missing some Kenny G?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him and Eames laughed before the inevitable crease of anger appeared between Arthur's eyebrows.

"Ok I'm done," he said, leaning into the explosion of bubbles to press his mouth to Arthur's. His lips were dry but when Arthur pressed into him and opened his mouth his tongue was hot and wet. Eames moaned softly and pulled back, wiping away the bubbles where they had clung around his neck, crackling in his ears and dampening his shirt collar.

"You seem a bit better," he said. Arthur's face was pink from the heat and his eyes were a little brighter. He hadn't bothered to tame his hair from that morning, however, and it still clung around his ears in a mess. Eames smiled and ran a hand back through it.

"Mmm," agreed Arthur. "I'll be fine tomorrow."

"If you don't drown in this lot," Eames said, flicking his hand through the bubbles and sending some floating up through the air.

"Aren't you meant to be looking after me?" Arthur asked.

"You're right. What can I get you?"

"A warm towel to get out into would be nice?"

Eames fetched him one and draped it over the radiator in their bedroom before returning to Arthur.

"So," he said, sitting on the edge of the bath next to Arthur's head, "you survived today without me?" He wrapped a hand around the back of Arthur's neck, rubbing his thumb in a slow massage behind his ear.

"I managed it, yes." Arthur made a little sound of pleasure and tilted his head, letting Eames rub down the column of his throat. "How was your day?"

"Apart from being worried about you, I can't complain."

"Yes, I got that from your barrage of text messages which read as though they were written by a teenage girl."

Eames laughed and tilted Arthur's head back against his thigh.

"You're welcome, darling," he said, and leant down. The kiss was upside-down and their noses kept bumping together but Arthur didn't seem to mind. He arched up and Eames slid his hand down over his collar bones, slipping into the bubbles and rubbing down over Arthur's chest, soaking his arm to the elbow. He pulled back to suck at Arthur's lower lip and let him pant against his mouth. He brushed his fingertips low on Arthur's stomach beneath the water.

"Time to get out, do you think?" asked Eames.

Arthur nodded and Eames went to the retrieve the towel, now warmed from the radiator. He held it open as Arthur climbed out of the bath, suds clinging to him from neck to ankle, slipping down his legs to leave a puddle around his feet. Eames wrapped the towel around him and Arthur sighed at the contact, mumbling his thanks.

"You can thank me by getting on the bed," said Eames, following him into the bedroom.

Arthur plopped down onto the mattress and Eames reached for the light switch before remembering Arthur's headache. He left the room in darkness and tugged off his tie before pushing gently at Arthur's chest, lowering him onto his back. He rubbed the towel carefully over Arthur's body, wiping away the remnants of bubbles and leaving his skin soft and damp.

"You smell bloody amazing," said Eames, pressing his face to Arthur's neck and inhaling the fruity scent.

"And you need to shave," Arthur replied, shrugging Eames off his shoulder and nosing up the side of his face until their lips met.

Eames sucked at Arthur's lip for a moment, letting his hands drift over Arthur's chest, down his sides, shifting between their hips to grip Arthur's thighs and press them open. Arthur went willingly, opening his legs and wrapping them around Eames' waist, his damp feet moistening the back of Eames' shirt.

Eames pulled away and looked down at him.

"How's the head?" he asked.

"Bearable."

Eames moved against him, dipping his hips a little to brush the width of his thigh against Arthur's groin.

"Tired?"

Arthur smiled and a little groan of pleasure rose from his throat as Eames moved against him again.

"Not terribly, no," he said.

Eames kissed a wet trail down Arthur's chest, the taste of his clean, fresh skin on his lips and Arthur's fingers raking through his hair. He paused to lick and suck a mark on Arthur's stomach and looked up the long line of his body. A stripe of moonlight fell across the bed, cutting across Arthur's face and making the saliva on his wet lip shine. Eames roamed his hands up Arthur's torso, the pair of them together large enough to cradle Arthur's waist.

Eames rubbed his face against Arthur's stomach and Arthur hissed at the scratch of his stubble.

"You're so soft," Eames murmured.

"Not all of me," came the smirking reply.

Eames huffed out a laugh and moved to his knees on the floor between Arthur's legs. His hardening cock lay against his thigh, pink from the bath and growing as Eames watched, rubbing a soothing hand over Arthur's stomach.

He leant down and licked up Arthur's cock, curling his lips around the head and sucking lightly. Arthur's legs jerked and Eames pulled away to let him bend his knees, bracing his feet flat on the bed on either side of Eames' shoulders. Eames pulled Arthur's cock into his mouth and sank slowly down around it until Arthur was filling him, growing to full hardness on his tongue and nudging the back of his throat.

"Oh God," Arthur hissed, scraping his nails down over Eames' skull and curling around the back of his neck.

Eames sucked at him for a moment before pulling gently off, licking around the neck of Arthur's cock and letting his saliva wet the hard length of it. Arthur stared down at him, eyes suddenly wide and dark.

Eames let him press up into his mouth for a moment before grasping Arthur by the hips and pressing him the bed, earning him a whine. But, just as Eames knew he would, Arthur laid back and went still, his lips parted as he fought to steady his breathing.

Eames shuffled closer and sank down around Arthur again, digging his fingers into the flesh of Arthur's hips to holding him steady. Arthur twitched and whimpered, lifting his neck just enough to watch his cock disappear in and out of Eames' mouth. Eames breathed steadily through his nose, his eyes rolling as the taste of precome leaked into his mouth. He pulled off and pumped his fingers around the base of Arthur's cock, watching another drop appear and slip down over the head.

"C'mon, please," Arthur begged, his fingers tight and demanding on the back of Eames' neck.

Eames licked his lips and nodded, sucking Arthur back down to the root until his nose met Arthur's wet pubic hair. He bobbed his head and hummed around his mouthful, quickening his pace when Arthur's pants turned to sporadic grunts.

"Oh - God I'm _coming_ ," he bit out, jerking in Eames' mouth and arching back against the bed as he came.

Eames sucked at him, pulling the ropes of come down his throat and holding Arthur as he humped up into his face. Arthur's foot slipped from the bed as his leg kicked out in pleasure and Eames caught him by the ankle, pressing his foot back to the bed and rubbing a thumb over the ball of his ankle bone as Arthur slowly wound down.

Eames pulled back and kissed his stomach, watching the outline of Arthur's ribcage rise and fall with each deep inhale. He crawled up the bed next to Arthur and pulled him onto his side, pressing his trembling body against his chest.

"Why is it," mumbled Arthur, throwing a heavy leg around Eames' hips, "that every time we try to take care of each other, we just end up getting each other off?"

Eames laughed and ran a hand down Arthur's spine.

"Just a perk of the job,” he said.


End file.
